My chum Moore and I enlisted at the same time, served together at the front, lost our left legs in the same fight, and are now engaged in the same work--trying to help the Cause. --------------------------------------------------------------------- "Yes," said he. "I got mine there too." "The devil, you say!" "Sure," I said. "What you got?" he asked. "An explosive bullet." "Well, I'm jiggered, I was hit by one, too. But where did it take you?" "In the ankle." "This is some coincidence, kid, mine was in the ankle, too." "Which one?" "The left." "Same here. When did you get your final chunk taken off?" I asked. "About thirty hours back." "Same here. But, say, who gave you the right to mimic me?" We talked and talked until exhausted and we were told to stop it. This wonderful chain of coincidences would scarcely be complete were I to leave out the fact that we are of the same age, enlisted at the same time, in the same company, and, as related above, were wounded at the same time, in the same battle, on the same day. And, to make the chain perfect, we received our artificial legs on the same day in the city of Toronto, Ontario. And, the finishing touch to the list, here we are again, working together for all we are worth in the task of getting recruits through the British-Canadian Recruiting Mission in Chicago. Little wonder is it that we are christened the "War Twins." Time sped rapidly in the hospital, and the Angel of Healing, coupled with the untiring ministrations of two of the dearest women, my night, and my day nurses, rapidly brought me back to my normal condition of health. I cannot go further without telling of the wonderful power that lies in a good woman. Nurse Daniels, the night sister, called me her "model patient." I suppose she called every other patient the same thing, unknown to the others. This woman could make men feel better by simply smiling at them. It was pitiful to see the eagerness with which the boys watched for her coming at night. In she would walk, erect as a guardsman, looking the perfect English lady in her uniform. "Good evening, children." "Good evening, sister." "Have you been good boys today?" "The little Canuck has been trying to swipe some of your photographs, sister." "Oh, the little rascal! Doesn't his face belie his character?" With such light badinage she would make her way through the ward, smoothing a pillow, soothing some poor lad's agony with those wonderful cool hands of the born healer, jokingly chiding a few of us slightly wounded men for making so much of our wounds in order to get a caress from her, but we always got the caress. One night, in my restlessness, I had completely removed the dressing from my stump, and that wonderful woman had redressed the stump, brushed my hair, or what remained of it at that time, and departed to other duties without even awakening me.